


such wow. many normal. very oops.

by escapismandsharpobjects



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Accidents, Car Accidents, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, Whump, Whumptober 2020, aka kyle definitely has a crush on alex but he doesn't know yet lol, idk how well this fits the prompt but it's an accident aint it!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27255466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escapismandsharpobjects/pseuds/escapismandsharpobjects
Summary: whumptober day 28 - prompt: accidents. kyle gets hit by a car.
Relationships: Alex Manes & Kyle Valenti
Kudos: 9
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	such wow. many normal. very oops.

**Author's Note:**

> hi! i had so so much fun writing this and for once i'm actually like, pleased with how it turned out! that said there is not a whole lot of plot behind this, like don't think about who was driving the car or anything like that because. not important. anyways i hope you like this fic!!

The car came out of nowhere. One second, Kyle was jogging across the basically-deserted street on his way home from an errand, and the next, he was on top of the hood of a car, then rolling over it, and then on the ground.

He laid there for a moment, stunned, not thinking.  _ Did I just get hit by a car? _ he wondered, finally. 

A painful stinging across his hands and knees and a general terrible aching across his entire body answered that question well enough. But before he could dwell too much on the extent of the pain that his body was in, Kyle remembered that he was still in the middle of the street, which was not a good place to be.

He slowly pushed himself up, wincing when his scraped-raw hands made contact with the asphalt. Very carefully and very shakily, he stood up, keeping his legs slightly bent in an effort to minimize the pain that his knees were experiencing. 

Kyle staggered his way over to the curb, limping heavily, curling one arm around his chest when a sharp twinge told him he’d, at the very least, bruised his ribs. He sank down heavily onto the curb, body trembling with the effort of walking, and took as deep a breath as his hurting ribs would allow. 

He then took a second to professionally take stock of his injuries. His head ached, and he felt blood dripping down his forehead from a stinging gash, but he was pretty sure he didn’t have a concussion. His ribs hurt like hell, and his entire torso felt...well, like he’d been hit by a car. Which, obviously, he had. But he didn’t feel any blood, nor any signs that he might have been bleeding internally.

Deeming the pain in his torso nothing that couldn’t be dealt with, he moved on to his hands, which had been scraped bloody and raw from his fall to the ground. They hurt to move, which was unfortunate, but in the end, they were only scrapes, and not too worrying. His knees had fared similarly, though he was pretty sure they’d slammed into the car far harder than his hands had, when he’d thrown himself onto the hood to avoid being flattened. They ached in a way he imagined old peoples’ knees ached, and they were fairly torn up from hitting the road, the blood clearly visible through the now-also-torn knees of his jeans. 

_ Could have been worse, _ was Kyle’s final judgement.  _ Nothing worth going to the hospital over,  _ he decided, additionally, grateful that there wasn’t anyone around on the street to make that decision for him. 

With his mind made up that he would be fine, Kyle figured there was no use sitting around on the ground anymore, so he again slowly pushed himself up, wincing as small bits of gravel caught in his bloody palms, swaying slightly on his feet as a rush of lightheadedness came over him momentarily. 

After his head cleared, Kyle stepped up onto the sidewalk, curling his arm back around his ribs and setting off at a very slow limp for home. 

He made it through his front door perhaps twenty minutes later, though ordinarily he would have been home in half the time. He’d had to stop three times to catch his breath and practically  _ force  _ his body to keep moving, and he was absolutely exhausted by the time he was closing the door. 

He leaned against the wood for a moment, waiting for the pain in his...everywhere...to die down to an acceptable level. Which it did, eventually, and he celebrated that fact by stumbling off to the bathroom, where a large supply of first-aid items and pain medicine awaited.

In the bathroom, Kyle stopped for a moment to lean against the counter, not wanting to sit down before he grabbed everything he needed. He took a few steadying, though not deep, breaths, then opened his cabinets and selected everything he thought he might need. 

Finally allowing himself to sit down on the lid of the toilet, Kyle got to work, a process ordinarily just as easily said as done, but currently, one a great deal more difficult than it should have been, owing to the fact that his hands stung every time he used them. 

But there was nothing for it, so Kyle simply opened up a bottle of ibuprofen, took the maximum dose, and forced his hands to work. 

He started out with his knees, carefully swabbing them out with a cotton ball dipped in hydrogen peroxide. It stung not only on his knees, but on his hands as well, and he nearly dropped the ball on the ground when a particularly large cut on his hand got the liquid in it. 

Still, it wasn’t that bad, he knew. Skinned knees were something easily handled by a child, never mind a surgeon. So he gritted his teeth and dealt with it, not bothering to apply bandages because he knew they would just come back off. 

Following this, Kyle carefully unbuttoned and removed his shirt. As expected, the area around his ribs was starting to bruise a lovely shade of purple, and there were several other bruises forming across his stomach and arms, and probably his back as well, if the pain there was anything to go by. But there wasn’t anything Kyle could do for these injuries, except wait for them to heal. So he moved on to his hands, which had already been slightly cleaned in the process of cleaning his knees. 

He swept away as much dirt and gravel as he could, knowing that he probably should have used a pair of tweezers but sure he’d be unable to operate them with the scraped-up condition of his fingers. He did bandage these injuries, as best as he could, regretting the action almost immediately when he realized he still had to work on his head with his hands’ now even more limited mobility.

He was also going to need to stand up, he realized, which he really hadn’t wanted to do. But, he reflected, he was going to have to get up at some point anyway, so it might as well be now. 

He pushed himself up, bracing a hand on the counter, a sensation which felt partly bad, because of the pain, but partly good, because of the cool sensation of the granite under his hands.  _ That’s what I need, _ he decided.  _ To lie down in the cold and let it freeze everything away.  _

Unfortunately, that was not very realistic, and Kyle shook off the thought, focusing back on the task of patching himself up. He looked into the mirror. There was a large, shallow, bloody scrape across his forehead, a couple smaller cuts on his cheeks, and a bruise on his jaw. Once again, he counted himself lucky. No broken nose or black eye. 

The cut on his forehead was easy enough to patch up, though it continued to bleed into the bandage for longer than Kyle would have liked. The cuts on his cheeks were likewise easy to deal with, and small enough to not warrant the bandages. 

Gingerly, he touched his fingers to his bruised jaw, sucking in a sharp breath as he poked the sore skin.  _ That’s that, _ he thought.  _ Nothing else I can do. _ He looked around at his now-messy bathroom for a second, dreading the thought of cleaning it up before deciding that could wait until he felt a little less like roadkill.

With that decided, Kyle left the bathroom and headed into the living room, where he turned on the fan as high as it would go and carefully laid himself on the couch.  _ I should have taken a shower, _ he thought vaguely, the surgeon in him thinking about all the dirt and germs that still covered his body and could lead to infection.  _ Everything hurts too much, _ was the thought that overruled it, the injured person in him thinking about the fact that he had just been  _ hit by a car.  _

He sighed, closing his eyes. He’d be fine, he decided. He could take a shower later, and then maybe he’d stop by work and have one of his coworkers give him a once-over. At the moment, though, he was far too tired and far too achy to even consider getting up, let alone giving himself over to be poked and prodded at. All he really wanted to do was sleep. 

But of course, sleep never seemed to come when he most wanted it, and for half an hour he just laid there, staring at the fan spinning on the ceiling and trying desperately to fall asleep. But it was no use. He simply couldn’t.

So he did the thing that made sense to him - he picked up his phone with his bandaged hands and clumsily called Alex. Alex could fix anything, he knew, probably even sleeplessness brought about by a car accident.

“What’s up, Kyle?” 

“Um...hi,” Kyle replied, suddenly wondering whether calling Alex had been such a good idea.  _ He doesn’t want to be bothered by your very small problems, _ Kyle thought to himself.  _ What were you thinking? _

“Kyle? You okay?” 

Kyle shrugged, then remembered Alex couldn’t see him. “No,” he admitted, “but it’s nothing.”

“If it’s bothering you, it’s not nothing,” Alex said, and Kyle wanted to cry. After everything, still Alex was so nice to him, even if his problems really  _ were  _ nothing compared to the kind of problems they’d been dealing with lately. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, truthfully, and also not for the first time. “For everything.”

“What do you mean, Kyle?” came Alex’s voice, sounding worried. Kyle hated himself for that. He didn’t want Alex to worry.

“No, no, I just mean...for high school. I know, I  _ know  _ I keep saying it, but I am, I was horrible to you and you’re so nice to me and you’re the best person I know and I don’t know what I did to deserve to have you back in my life but here you are, and you’re my best friend, and...I maybe got hit by a car and everything hurts a lot even though I took like, six ibuprofen, and I can’t fall asleep and I just wanted to hear your voice, I guess, I…” He trailed off, finally, faintly exhausted by the words that had suddenly come spilling out of him, unbidden.

Alex was silent on the other end for a second. “You got hit by a  _ car?” _

“Um...yeah.”

“And you’re not at the hospital.”

“No.”

“You’re at home?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t go anywhere, I’m coming.”

Alex hung up then, and Kyle kept laying there, smiling to himself despite everything. _ Alex is coming, _ he thought,  _ he’s coming and it’s going to be okay. _

A few minutes later, Kyle’s front door was swinging open, causing Kyle to shoot up in mild alarm, then wince audibly as his ribs shouted in protest and his head swam. 

There had been no need to worry, anyway, because it was Alex who had come through the door, which, Kyle realized, he hadn’t locked when he’d first stumbled inside.

_ “Kyle,” _ Alex said, concerned. “You look like hell.” He crossed the room swiftly, grabbing a pillow from a chair and sticking it behind Kyle’s back. “Lie back down,” he instructed, and Kyle did. 

“Thanks for coming,” he said, as Alex gently poked at him. “Ow,” he added, as Alex hit an especially sore spot on his ribs.

“”Sorry,” Alex said, stopping his poking. “I guess you did all this already, huh?”

“Yeah,” Kyle replied. “It sucked.”

“I bet.”

Alex moved from next to him then, and sat down on the end of the couch, carefully picking up Kyle’s legs and draping them back across his lap. “You tired?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Kyle said, though he was sure Alex  _ could  _ believe.

“Think you can sleep now?”

“Yeah,” Kyle said.  _ Now that you’re here, _ he didn’t say, not that he supposed Alex couldn’t figure that fact out. 

“And you’re  _ sure  _ you don’t need the hospital?”

“Yes, mom,” Kyle said, already feeling himself falling asleep. “It’s not that bad.”

Alex sighed, clearly annoyed. “You got hit by a car, Kyle. That’s bad by default.”

“Mm.”

“I know you’re tired, and I’m not going to keep you up, but don’t think we’re done talking about this,” Alex said, his voice soft but leaving no room for argument.

“‘Kay,” Kyle replied, and then Alex gave his leg a gentle, reassuring pat, and Alex himself gave him a promise that he’d be there when Kyle woke up, and then at long last the pain started to fade, and he fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks very much for reading!!! i really hope you enjoyed this fic, please let me know what you think!


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